


Silver Blade

by ami_ven



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Established Relationship, John Winchester Not Being an Asshole, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-29 17:46:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16748734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ami_ven/pseuds/ami_ven
Summary: “Look, no offense, Dad,” said Dean.  “But you’re dead.  Very dead, and not recently.  What gives?”





	Silver Blade

**Author's Note:**

> There was apparently a tumblr prompt (which I don’t have a link for) – I read several reply-fics for it, and decided to take mine in a little different direction…

There was a knock at the door.

Dean frowned across their motel room, on the outskirts of Dull, Illinois – that was the town’s real name, it said so on the map – “Did you order a pizza?”

Sam shot him a look as he got up from the rickety table, but Dean just smiled and reached under the pillow for his gun. At this angle, his giant of a brother would block him from view from whoever was at the door, and all Sam would have to do was duck out of the way if there was any danger, to let Dean have a clear shot.

But Sam didn’t duck. He also didn’t say anything, like he should have if the person knocking had been, say, motel housekeeping or no one at all. He was quiet for so long that Dean was starting to get worried, until Sam said, in a small voice, “Dad?”

Dean was instantly on his feet, sliding around his brother to point his gun at the figure in the doorway.

It looked exactly like John Winchester, down to his scuffed boots and leather jacket, and when it raised its hands, it moved like him, too. “Stand down, boys,” it said, with John’s voice. “It’s me.”

“We’ll see about that,” said Dean, not lowering the gun. “Sammy, get the holy water.”

The figure didn’t react to holy water or a silver knife, to Sam reciting an exorcism or a few choice phrases in Enochian that Dean had picked up. 

“Look, no offense, Dad,” said Dean. “But you’re dead. Very dead, and not recently. What gives?”

“I don’t know,” said John. He frowned. “I… I have a job to do.”

“A job?” Sam repeated. “Like a hunt?”

John shrugged. “That’s our business, Sammy. And what the hell happened to your hair? You look like a damn hippie.”

Dean grinned. “That’s dad.”

Sam ignored them both. “And a particular hunt?” he pressed. “You know what you’re after?”

“More or less.”

“Then we’ll come with you,” said Dean. “Just like old times.”

John shook his head. “I have to do this one myself, that was the deal.”

“Deal?” repeated Dean. “You made a demon deal?”

“Of course not,” said John. “I tried all the tests, got nothing. But then, we didn’t exactly stop for small talk, either.”

“Dad,” Sam protested, “we have a lot of enemies—”

His father waved him quiet. “I know what I’m doing, Sammy. One job, that was the deal. Gank one monster – not exactly hard, I would have planned to start hunting again, anyway – and I get my life back.”

“Just like that?” said Sam. “No time limit, no eternal damnation.”

“Nope,” said John. “I didn’t even have to kiss anyone.”

Sam frowned. “It still seems suspicious. I mean, why Dad? It takes a lot of power to bring back the dead, and there are plenty of living people who could be asked, paid or manipulated into doing a job like this. Dad, how do we know you didn’t get, you know… messed with?”

“We call an expert, that’s how,” said Dean.

“Who—?” said John, but immediately there was a rustle of wings.

“Hello, Dean.”

John leaped to his feet, knife in hand.

“Whoa, whoa, Dad,” said Sam. “It’s just Cas.”

“You get away from it, boy,” snapped John, not lowering his knife. “It’s not human.”

Castiel had, as usual, appeared well within Dean’s personal space, and he didn’t move, tilting his head. “You are John Winchester.”

“Who wants to know?”

“My name is Castiel. I’m an Angel of the Lord.”

“No such thing as angels. Now _move_ , Dean.”

“Look, Dad,” said Dean. “You missed kind of a lot, being dead. Angels are real. So is heaven, soul-mates, prophets and _God_. God’s a deadbeat and most of the angels are dicks with wings. But Cas is… he’s Cas.”

“He’s our friend,” added Sam. “A really, really good one.”

Cas smiled. “Thank you, Sam. I value your friendship as well.”

“Fine,” huffed John, and set his knife on the tiny motel table. “You’re an angel.”

For a long moment, they all just stared at each other – then, John lunged forward. Dean saw the flash of silver and recognized the shape instantly, reacting even before he knew he was going to, stepping in front of Cas so that the angel blade caught Dean squarely in the ribs.

“Dean!” cried Cas, just as Sam yelled, “Dad!”

John stumbled back, knuckles white on the bloody blade as Dean went pale and collapsed. Cas caught him, easing them onto the foot of the nearest bed, both of their hands pressed over Dean’s side. At the same time, Sam grabbed John’s wrist, knocking the angel blade aside, then backing him up against the opposite wall, an arm at his throat.

“What the hell?” Sam growled.

“It’s not human,” John repeated. “There are no angels, Sammy. That’s a demon, wearing some poor bastard, just waiting for the perfect moment to kill you both.”

In his peripheral vision, Sam could see that Cas had his hand over Dean’s would, glowing blue as he healed him. Dean let out a ragged breath, clutching the lapels of Cas’s trench coat, forehead pressed against Cas’s shoulder.

“I am almost finished,” said Cas, in a soothing rumble. “Your lung is punctured, and my grace is not currently at full capacity.”

“What’re you wasting it on me for?” Dean wheezed.

“I’ll pretend you didn’t say that,” said Cas.

John struggled against Sam’s hold. “Don’t you _care_ that a demon is killing your brother?”

“Cas is an angel,” said Sam. “And he couldn’t kill Dean even when he was brainwashed to do it.”

“He’s lying,” said John. He pushed once more against Sam’s arm, but when his son shoved him back again, he stayed still.

With a start, Sam realized that he was currently winning a physical fight with his father – before his growth spurt in high school, he’d always been too scrawny to really take Dad or Dean in a fight. But now he had ten years of muscles earned by digging graves and fighting monsters, with the added incentive of finally being able to protect Dean, for once.

He shoved John against the wall a bit harder, squeezing the hand he still had around his father’s wrist until the angel blade fell to the dingy carpet with a _thump_.

“Cas?” he asked, over his shoulder.

“Your brother is healed,” said Cas, helping Dean to his feet. “But I believe he will ‘sleep well’ tonight.”

Sam let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. “Thanks, Cas.”

“I’ll have to thank you later, Cas,” said Dean, smirking.

Sam frowned at them. “Seriously?”

Dean’s expression shifted instantly. “Let him go, Sam,” he said, and strode forward to snatch up the fallen angel blade. When Sam moved out of the way, Dean pointed the weapon at their father. “Where did you get this?”

“I had it when I woke up,” said John. “It’s a demon knife. He said it would kill any demon – like the one controlling my boys.”

“This is an angel blade,” said Dean, tightening his grip. He was holding it by the blade, hard enough to have drawn blood with a human-made knife. “It’s made from an angel’s grace, and it’s one of a very, very small number of things that can actually kill an angel. Who gave it to you?”

“Don’t you start with me, boy,” growled John. “That thing is not human.”

“Not everything can be black and white, Dad,” snapped Dean. “The world isn’t divided into good and bad, humans and monsters. Because some monsters are good and some humans are bad, and I had to learn that the hard way.” He brandished the angel blade again. “Who gave this to you?”

“It wasn’t a demon,” said John. “I started reciting an exorcism and it didn’t even flinch. Told me my boys were in danger, and all I had to do was gank the thing that had you. I knew it wasn’t human, but I figured I could go back for whatever it was once you were safe. If Dean hadn’t been too slow to get out of the way—”

“Dean moved _into_ the blade,” interrupted Cas. He had been silent so far, and everyone turned to look at him surprised.

“What?” said Sam.

“When your father attacked me,” Cas said, calmly, “Dean deliberately moved between us.”

“Well, of course I did,” huffed Dean. “He had an _angel blade_. I know your reflexes are good, Cas, but I wasn’t going to risk it.

“So you risk your own life instead?” Cas demanded.

“Instead of yours? Absolutely!”

“Guys!” snapped Sam. “What are we going to do about Dad?”

“That depends,” said Dean. “Is he gonna try and kill Cas again?”

“Your father is not under any outside influence,” the angel put in. “I would be able to detect a spell, or a demon’s claim on his soul.”

“I’m not the one under a spell,” said John. “You are, both of you! This demon or djinn, or whatever it is – it’s got you believing it’s your friend! How long have you known it? Just a month? Maybe two?”

“We’ve known Cas for ten years,” said Sam. “He’s an _angel_ , and he’s family.”

“Yes,” said Cas, brightening. “I now have several pieces of fraudulent identification declaring my name to be ‘Castiel Winchester’.”

John scowled. “How could you let that thing take our name?”

Dean scowled right back. “The same way you let Mom.”

“You—” said John. “You _married_ —”

“Yes, I did,” Dean said, stubbornly.

He shoved the angel blade into Cas’s hand, then snatched the silver knife from where they’d left it on the table and moved to stand between them, his back to Cas and the knife held out to his father.

“You want to stab me again, Dad?” asked Dean. “This’ll work much better on a human, and I don’t think Cas has enough mojo to heal me all the way just now. It’ll probably leave a real nice scar, to remind me of what a disappointment I am.”

“Dean, what the hell?” said Sam, starting forward, but his brother held up a hand to stop him.

“Let him, Sammy. I’m done being the good little soldier. This is who I am, he can take it or leave it.”

John reached for the knife – then held it up, hilt out, for Sam to take. “He’s really an angel?” he asked, softly.

“Wings and all,” said Dean.

“And you’re married,” John continued. “You could do that?”

Dean frowned, but Sam realized what he meant. “Yeah, Dad. It’s legal, now, all fifty states.”

“Huh,” said John. “And it’s not, you know… a sin? Both of you being…?”

“Angels have no gender,” said Cas. “This form is merely a vessel. But there is also no sin in the sexual union of any consenting adults, nor in the marriage of any who truly wish to commit themselves to one another.”

“Huh,” John repeated. “I – why would something send me to kill you, then?”

Cas sighed. “Since it wasn’t a demon, I imagine it was one of my brethren. Most of heaven seems to have decided to ignore me, but apparently there are still some who wish me harm.”

“Well, they’re dicks, Cas,” said Dean. He crossed back to the bed to sit beside him, lacing their fingers together. “ _We’re_ your family now, me and Sam.”

“We’ll find out who it was,” Sam added. “We’ll keep you safe, Cas.”

The angel smiled, “Thank you,” then looked at John. “When whichever of my brothers sent you realizes that you did not kill me, they may come for you. It would be safer if you stayed with us.”

“Of course I would,” said John. “With my sons and… and my son-in-law.”

Dean brightened. “Yeah?”

“I…” his father began, then took a deep breath. “This is gonna take some getting used to. But I’ll try.”

“That’s all we can ask,” said Sam. “And since we’ve got another driver, we can start home early.”

John frowned. “Home?”

Dean smiled. “Dad, let me tell you about _your_ dad. And the Men of Letters…”

THE END


End file.
